‘No way am I going back out there and telling Senan Walsh he can’t have what he ordered.’
‘We could try to get in touch with Aidan?’ Mark suggested.
‘Yeah, I’ll try him.’ Shane strode out of the kitchen. They all looked at him expectantly when he returned moments later. ‘He wasn’t picking up and it didn’t go to voicemail.’ He sighed. ‘Sorry, Lou. You can blame it on me for not telling you about the fish soup. Or just say it sold out or something. Tell them the crab linguine is good.’
‘Nope. He said he’d come here especially to have the fish soup and that’s what he’s getting.’ She stormed over to the sink, rolled up her sleeves and began washing her hands. ‘And if you won’t make it, I will.’
The whole kitchen froze, looking at her aghast. ‘Can you cover my station, Ingrid?’ Lunch was winding down anyway, and it was unlikely there’d be any new customers at this stage, so she didn’t feel guilty about making the request.
‘Sure, but?—’
‘Lou, you can’t,’ Shane said.
‘I can and I will. I presume we have fish stock?’
‘Yes, there’s plenty in the fridge. But there’s more to the dish than a good stock. It needs to be exactly as Aidan makes it.’
‘Don’t worry. It will be.’
‘How?’
‘I’ve eaten it. I’m sure I can recreate it.’
She closed her eyes, going back to that bowl of soup she’d eaten on her first visit to the restaurant, separating out the different flavours in her mind.
‘Okay,’ she said, turning to Ian. ‘When you’ve finished those mussels, I need you to dice some fennel and juice a couple of oranges. I’ll start prepping the fish.’
Ian just looked at her with his mouth hanging open.
‘Look, you can help me or not, but I’m doing this. For goodness’ sake, it’s just a bowl of soup.’
Shane shook his head implacably. ‘It’s the reputation of the restaurant.’
‘Don’t worry,’ she said with a confident smile. ‘The restaurant’s reputation is perfectly safe.’
‘Aidan won’t thank you,’ he warned.
‘We’ll see.’ She turned to Ian. ‘So, are you going to help or do I have to do it all myself?’
Ian looked to Shane uncertainly.
Shane gave a defeated sigh. ‘Do what she says.’ He turned to Lou. ‘But on your head be it.’
‘I’ll pray for you,’ Ingrid said under her breath as she returned to the dining room.
‘Bon appétit!’ Lou said with a smile, back in waitress mode as she delivered two bowls of fragrant fish soup and a basket of freshly baked bread to Senan Walsh and his friend.
‘This smells amazing!’ The woman inhaled the aromatic steam.
Lou headed back to the kitchen with a satisfied smile to find Mark and Shane huddled around the stove, both tasting her soup.
Shane smiled at her over his spoon. ‘Good job, Lou.’
‘It’s good?’
‘It’s perfect.’
‘I wouldn’t be able to tell Aidan hadn’t made it himself,’ Mark chimed in.
